The Boy With the Bombs
by Fishing Four Finnick
Summary: The untold story of the boy from District 3 in the 74th Hunger Games. What was it like to see the games through his eyes? Rated T for some language and violence.


I could feel my skin tearing off bit by bit as I clawed my way through the dirt, and my blood stained the soil red. But even now I remembered everything in startling clarity. The feeling of terror as "David Gearman!" was called out for all to hear after being drawn from the reaping orb. The pain of knowing that once I stepped into the arena it would be only a matter of days until I'm just another corpse being sent away. Just another lifeless face in District 3 being wept over by crazy-with-grief parents who've already lost a child to the Capitol's factories.

A mix of hot tears and sweat stung my eyes. Now wasn't the time for crying. I should be immune to it all, eight days into the games. But it still hurt to picture my parents and friends, already morning my death as I stood before them.

I packed the last fistful of soil down on top of the final mine. I rocked back on my heels, observing my handiwork. It was the perfect product of my genius, the land-mines from around the plates repositioned around our pile of food and supplies. Well, ours until I had served my purpose that is.

As if on cue the sound of footfalls breaks the silence. I twist to look over my shoulder. The careers have returned from their hunt. Stretching my legs and rising to my feet, I nod to them in greeting. Without greeting the big burly blond boy shoves his sword into my grasp, and the skinny brunette tosses me his spear. I robotically toss them onto the supply rack and take a seat around our small camp fire to listen to the others discussing future plans.

"We're still looking for the little tree monkey and that district 12 girl." Clove grumbled poking at the fire with a stick, her expression soured.

"and lover boy." Marvel added, scratching at his trackerjacker stings. I shifted my gaze to Cato who usually didn't take well to talking about lover boy.

"How many times do I have to tell you, dimwit, that lover boy is as good as dead with that gash in his leg?" Cato snapped, his eyes burning with anger. Marvel scooted backwards from the bigger boy and took a bite out of an apple he had been holding

"Still no cannon for him, though." Marvel murmured around the bite of apple in his mouth, observing the fire through distant eyes. Cato pressed a finger to his temple, his hand blocking out the District 1 boy. I figured he was probably contemplating killing the other boy for being so annoying, by the expression he had on his face.

"The one we should be concerned about is the big District 11 one. He's more dangerous than the rest." Clove put in, trying to dissipate the tension. "What do you think, David?"

"I-" I stammered, "The girl from District 5 maybe?" They all burst out laughing at my answer, which to be honest wasn't very well thought out at all.

"What's she going to do? Hide us to death?" Marvel howled, practically rolling on the ground laughing. I pressed my lips into a straight line, beyond embarrassed. After a few moments Cato wiped the tears from his eyes and smirked at me.

"Last time we'll be taking advice from you!" He added with a chuckle. I gave a lopsided smile. We all glanced around at each other until the joy had left our faces, unsure of what to do.

As if in answer, the smoke of a fresh fire appeared on the horizon.

"Guys." I whispered, as if my speech could blow the smoke away "Look." The three glanced over their shoulders. Clove smiled maliciously at the sight of it.

"Another stupid tribute" Marvel hissed through a crocodile grin.

"Looks like it's time for a hunt."

We tumbled through the brush in the forest towards another fire close by, since the first fire wasn't actually accompanied by another tribute.

"Probably a gamemaker trick." Cato had muttered irritably under his breath at this previous discovery of the lone fire, shortly after, we took off towards the second fire hoping for better results.

We were close to it now; I could smell the smoldering brush. My nose curled at the bitter smell of burning leaves as I jogged after the boys, Clove at my side. I finally started feeling like a part of the group when Clove shoved me slightly and I stumbled over a jutting root, as if putting me back into place as a nobody. Clove let out a snicker as she stepped on my foot and I stumbled again. Marvel glanced over his shoulder at me his eyebrows raised.

"Come on ugly, can't you at least keep your footing?"

I grimaced, embarrassed for the second time that day and worked to catch up with them, the luminance of the second fire creeping across my vision. We did a quick sweep of the area. If the fire hadn't been here we might've believed that no one had been here for days, if at all. Cato punched a tree and let out a rather animalistic roar.

"God Dammit it! What the hell is this?" He snarled, kicking dirt around. I momentarily thought that he looked like an over grown two year old throwing a temper tantrum.

His anger was cut short and we all fell silent as what sounded like a mixture of an avalanche and a stampede. It could only be one thing.

"My explosives" I breathed, my eyes going wide as I looked at the faces of those around me. Maybe this fire ordeal was a diversion for some desperate tribute to steal our food and met a bitter end as human fireworks. Cato rolled his eyes at me.

"Better hope there's a deep fried tribute waiting for us back at camp District 3." He snapped at me, then he turned to Marvel "You." He barked, "Stay here."

The brunette boy nodded and leaned on his spear, looking overly smug as if he knew something I didn't.

"Anyone shows up, Shish kabob them." Cato added nodding to Marvel's spear. The District 1 boy gave a sick grin as we turned and high-tailed our way out of there. I felt sick to my stomach. _We hadn't heard a cannon fire. _I tried to convince myself that the cannon must have fired during the explosion. But even with my self-reassurance I couldn't even begin to wrestle my almost paralyzing fear that something had gone wrong. I knew that if anything had happened Cato'd kill me, and I hoped that he'd at least make my death quick. But that probably wouldn't be my luck. A wicked smell met my nostrils. It smelled like a cross between burning rubber, plastic, and food. My face fell. It sure didn't _smell_ like the odds were in my favor. My heart was in my throat and my legs felt like rubber as we entered the clearing. Everything was decimated in the blast. There wasn't a scrap of food or supplies left that could be salvaged. We slowed our pace as we got closer to the remnants of the inferno.

Cato turned on me. "You did this!" He snarled, "This is your fault!" I cowered, shying away from him.

"No. Please I-"

His hands tightened around my neck, and I prayed my mother looked away from the screen. I squeezed my eyes shut. Stars danced across the inside of my vision.

The last thing I heard was the sound of the vertebrate of my neck breaking, and a distant cannon fire.


End file.
